


three of swords

by CheshirePirouette



Category: Final Fantasy, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Grief/Mourning, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21644131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheshirePirouette/pseuds/CheshirePirouette
Summary: she once walked a thin line, eyes shut and arms outstretched; the power to protect hummed in one hand and the will to destroy pulsed in the other.with his death, she fell.or, a story where those left behind have to pick up the pieces.--[after the Vault, everything changes]
Relationships: Aymeric de Borel & Warrior of Light, Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light, Jannequinard/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Past Haurchefant Greystone/Warrior of Light - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

Her hands were trembling.

Haurchefant was _gone_ , and here she was now, clutching onto a soul crystal like her life depended on it. Like she hadn’t tried to learn before, tentatively stepping into Conjury only for her body itself to reject it, reject her. 

‘ _Potent’_ one tutted, ‘ _Overwhelming_ ’ the other’d muse as they poked and prodded and whispered over their aetherometers. Heads never turned her way until they were finished, repeating what she’d heard so long ago with her tribe:  
  


“ _Your aether is… strange_.”

She let out a slow breath, absently watching the mist curl and rise up from her mouth and switched the crystal from one frozen hand to the other. Others were looking her way now, at the proclaimed ‘Warrior of Light’, the _Hero_ _of Ishgard-_ sharp teeth clenched at the sudden rush of memories and whispered words of a loved one, forcing a neutral face instead and taking a small step forward. 

The comforting weight of her staff was gone and only this thrice-damned soul crystal remained. She never meant to accept it in the first place, didn’t know why she’d kept it over the months since. And now the Athenaeum Astrologicum loomed over her- had for the last bell at the least if her internal clock was anything to go by- and she’d made a single step within that time.

_Stupid_.

She should just leave. Should return to the manor, listen to Emmanellian’s faux-complaints as he pretended like nothing was wrong, nothing had changed. Endure Count Edmont’s patient smiles and too kind eyes that never left hers, invited her into their home as if she weren’t the reason they’d lost a brother, a son. 

Her foot rose, body shifting back-

A gloved hand entered her vision, dark brown skin peeking out just above where the fabric ends. Ruby eyes traced upwards, following the line of crisp linen robes along their arm and shoulder and finally ending at the pair of blue eyes that stood heads above her own. 

She stared blankly for a few moments, doing little more than blinking when a small shiver seemed to move the other person into action once again; “Aha! I do believe that is quite enough of that, don’t you?”

Between one moment and the next she was ushered inside, the hand that’d been outstretched serving to gently push her instead, 

“Really, when I’d heard whispers that a young lady such as yourself was loitering outside, I had thoughts that it may have been a womanly caller! Seeing that it was you is no less of a delight however, I assure you madame.” She very loosely remembered his name from months back, Jannequinard, busied himself throughout his speech and drew out an old tea kettle from beneath his desk to prepare for the both of them.

Another shiver wracked her body. 

“To withstand the icy wastes of Ishgard for two bells does have to be applauded- and questioned within reason as well, of course--,” He paused to draw a blanket over her shoulders in a move that was entirely too intimate for how fragile she felt,”--though I have to wonder _why_ one would do that to themselves?”

He swept away again before her mouth could open, tugging a chair over without care for the shrieks it made against the wooden floor, or the heated glares sent his way from the others within the building. A stack of books wobbled precariously on its armrest and he looked entirely too pleased with himself when it came to rest directly behind her. 

“Now,” the elezen sat across from her with a flourish, kettle beginning to heat between them,

“Let’s talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

The stone building was more spacious than she’d imagined, though Jannequinard’s area felt much more cramped than the rest, books and scrolls laid out haphazardly in one corner as if they’d been shoved to the side and two large chairs taking up even more precious room. 

The remaining space was claimed by various researchers and their works; Ancient star maps and diagrams were framed on the walls or put to use at one of the many globes that sat on the large wooden tables. The scent of old, polished wood and even older paper was a respite when she'd only been able to focus on the cold, before.

Half-melted candles laid on the desk itself, offering a small border between them and any watchful eyes. The furniture’s build as a whole, built for those much larger than her Xaela frame, threatened to swallow her and the chair itself offered no favors- despite how her feet dangled inches off of the ground, her back stood tall and rigid even when in a place of comfort.

She turned her attention to the man himself then, gaze immediately cutting away from his own to inspect him instead. 

He was certainly how she’d remembered, tall and entirely too comfortable in his own skin if his rumored flirtations were anything to go by. Red hair and dark robes were similarly unruffled and though she didn’t look at him directly, a flash of white teeth showed his notice of the attention.

“When I say such a thing, it is usually to prompt the other person in the conversation to speak of themselves. For example, Lady Aza, ‘How have you been as of late? Enjoyed the weather lately? Let’s Talk about it, shall we?’ Strange custom, I know.” He grinned when her eyes brightened, though she slowly sank in on herself again. 

She shook her head, “..I am here, for this,” A scaled hand slowly twisted upwards, painfully uncurling to reveal a small orange jewel in the palm. Jannequinard straightened in excitement only to clap, 

“Aha! So you’ve decided to join our ranks, my lady? Rest assured that I will be the Most wonderful of teach--”

Aza held up the other hand before he could gain any more momentum, absently noticing the flash of something in his expression at the interruption,

“I am here to return it to you.” She set it on the small end-table between them away from the portable oven, sliding it until she couldn’t reach any further. Her eyes met his head on, refusing to look away during such a moment.

His eyebrows furrowed in obvious confusion even as he reached out to touch the soul crystal with a fingertip, “P-pardon? But I had assumed that..” He paused to worry at his lip, “With all earnestness, I do not understand. From what Lady Leveva has told me you took enchantingly to the study! Perhaps a bit rushed in execution, but-” 

“No.”

He stopped mid-sentence, face twisting further before a moment of clarity; slowly settling back into the chair with a crossed leg and hand on his chin, Jannequinard looked at her with suddenly soft eyes. “Ah. I see.”

The sudden silence between them felt heavier than before, lasting only until the shrill whistle of the kettle pierced through them both. Her hand twitched in a half aborted movement for the staff she’d left behind before she placed her other atop to hide the tell. If he’d noticed, he didn’t say a word.

Surely he could hear the pounding of her heart against her ribs, demanding attention and care and muffling all but the dull roar in her ears? She disguised the feeling of _too much too much_ when accepting the offered cup of tea, sipping with a distant awareness of the way it scalded her tongue. Now free of the burden, her hand went to tuck hair behind her horn before faltering; it was much too short for that, now.

It hadn’t even been a part of their mourning traditions- she wore the white dutifully, no hints of other colors on her skin- but taking her hair? A moment born of rage and grief. She hadn’t looked as black locks fell to the floor, one after another. 

Her gaze refocused from her musings, realizing her hand was still hovering beside her head and that she hadn’t heard any of what Jannequinard may have said while gone. It completed its motion, falling back to her lap as the other set the tea back onto the table. 

“Thank you for the opportunity, but it is not for me.” Her accent was thick and heavy in the moment, voice lilting as if she were speaking her natural tongue but she couldn’t quite find it in herself to care. 

Silence rang out loudly between them again, only for Jannequinard to clear his throat with intent, “If I may,” he began with a slow and gentle cadence, “..I truly believe that this art- or, study if you will, could be bettered through your influence. But not only that! It.. could help you as well, my lady.”

He straightened from his position as if he were only just aware of being bent over the table, their conversation having taken on a near conspiratorial tone. 

“At the least, it may give you a distraction if I may be so bold. And at the most, well..”

His face lit up into a roguish grin, tempered only by the crow’s feet at the corner of each eye,

“We shall see, won’t we?”

Her eyes narrowed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mistake is made.

Morning light drifted in.

Aza walked the length of her bedroom, stepping over boxes piled full with wool and another, small and dust-covered that she slid neatly beneath the bed with the edge of a foot without looking. 

She resolved yet again to wind the stray thread that coated the floor and stepped over it, automatically stepping through the few open spaces left.

And finally she’d arrived at her work station; a giant of a loom took up a corner all on its own, black varnish offsetting the multicolored spindles of silk that lined the walls. 

Her hand trailed over the current projects as she sat, finally settling on one near the center of the pile- a pair of cabled woolen gloves. With the dizzying number of hidden Ishgardian traditions, she was unsure if these were meant for a friend, coworker, or lover-

_Ah._

Her thoughts turned from the purpose to the make, then, eyes searching over the rows of dyed woolen yarn that were hung over a metal tray. With a moment’s concentration the red dripping mass was dried and-- 

Too dry, apparently. 

She watched the magic fizzle out of her hands with a frustrated look, allowing herself a small groan as she began to manually stretch the now stiff yarn out again.

Back to the project.

* * *

_\--and this stitch was too far forward, would have to go back a row- or perhaps she could frog it and pretend as if it never happened? The-_

Her head snapped up at the sound of knocking, gaze going from the door and towards the window. Red light filtered in.

_Was it already that late?_

Another polite knock and she was standing with a crack, glaring down at the stubborn knee that dared to make such a noise and then strode towards the door.

She opened it in time to see Emmanellian, hand raised and fist up and frozen into sheepishness. When he seemed unwilling or unable to speak she glanced past him and into the hallway. 

No one else was there.

Her brows furrowed, foot defensively shifting backwards though the door remained open; closing it on him now seemed rude, though his staring past her was just as much by this point. 

“..Yes..?"

As if jolted to action, Emmanellian swung his hand downwards to meet his open palm with a grin. “Aza!!”

“...Yes. We have- established that I am here, Emma--,”

“Come to dinner!”

He grabbed her hand before she could object, dropping the knitting needles in his haste to drag her with him.

Bearing through hissed objections with that same fixed grin, the boy sat her at one end of the dining room table before settling on the other side. 

The room was otherwise empty, barely a whiff of food in the air.

Aza ran a hand through short hair, eyes squeezing tight for a moment before gesturing towards him with a rough voice, “Emma--”

“-I know what you’re going to say. And, food really is being prepared as we speak, but first..” 

He ducked beneath the table, coming back to surface with red ears and three envelopes held to his chest. 

The first missive had been dropped off by the courier and then summarily tossed in the bin. The second and third were left with the manor attendants afterwards- or so she’d thought.

She reeled back slightly in realization, eyes widening and then narrowing with the focus of a hawk, 

“Are you.. Have you been _reading_ my _mail?_ ”

“Only the first!!” He was all too quick to explain, tossing it over the table as if it had burned him, 

“And only after you already had. I found it in the trash-- don’t give me that look, Aza, I’m Trying here-..” 

After a moment’s contemplation he slid the other two over as well. “I just.. Think that it might be a good opportunity for you. _If_ you don’t count the ‘immediate treason against the’-- 

_OW!_ ” 

Emmanellian jumped in place as an envelope thudded against his chest, clutching the spot where the thick paper had landed with a pitiful look and whimper.

When she didn’t appear to be moved he dropped the act, “Okay, really. Lord Jannequinard’s offer is good! It would help, surely? You’d be able to see the sights again, step out of Ishgard for a bit?”

Aza held her hand up when he took a moment to breathe, still staring him down, “I _have_ been outside of Ishgard, Emmanellian.” She refused to acknowledge his wince at the use of his full name, “And I have been busy working, as you well know--”

“ _Yes, I am fully aware_ , Aza.” 

She paused.

Fists banged against the table. A cup teetered in place.

“What I ‘ _know’_ is that you haven’t left the manor for nearly four days! Not even to go out to that farm in the Highlands to- to do whatever it is that you do out there!” 

Her brother heaved as he pushed back from the table, glaring her down with a flushed face.

“We miss you, we ALL miss you and you’ve just been- sequestering yourself away in your bedroom all this time! Even if it _is_ for work’s sake, you should--!”

“--I should _what_. Be _better_ , by now?”

When he rocked back slightly, eyes wide and disarmed, she knew it.

She leapt in the moment he hesitated, flame licking in her mouth.

“It has been _weeks_.

And if you expect me to act as if I do not CARE-,”

_Wait._

  
  


“-what of YOU, then?”

_What was she saying?_

  
  


“You trounce around, acting as if you were not affected as well--”

_She couldn’t stop._

  
  


“He was _YOUR BROTHER_ first, so why does it feel like I am the only one who _cares_?”

Emmanelian jerked back.

Heat was building; clawing up her throat, her chest, a wordless growl that threatened to be unleashed even as her jaws locked together in a vice grip.

The sudden, ringing silence was only broken by the soft tapping of a cane on carpet as the Count Fortemps entered the room. It was as if a shroud drew over them, muffling them both.

“..I believe it would be best if we took a small walk, Aza.”

At her jerky nod Emmanellian strode off, neither looking in the other’s direction.

* * *

  
  
  
A hand on her shoulder broke through the fog.

She could distantly feel herself hiss, decompressing even as she pressed into the touch. Her eyes screwed shut, teeth clenched onto the last bits of anger left in her system.

The Count waited patiently throughout it all, a steady presence at her side.

When she finally returned, emotionally drained- and really, letting herself lose control like that was _unheard_ of- she slumped onto the loom’s chair now that she was in the privacy of her room.

Thick bundles of parchment fell onto the table beside her as she stared down at them; crisp despite their mistreatment during their time here, and two still bearing a crimson waxen seal.

Minutes passed.

With a short sigh and deft hands, she cut open the first and began to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for patiently waiting! I'm hoping to get a new chapter in every two-ish weeks, and will update my profile if I feel as if there may be a change to that for the next installment.


End file.
